Where Darkness Falls
by 0tree0
Summary: Hermione Granger meets Lucius Malfoy six months after the Battle of Hogwarts and questions what kind of man he really is.


**A/N: My second foray into the Lumione fandom, this was written in the wee hours and has not seen the love of a beta, so be kind dear people. I may add to this at some point, but for now it is just a little one shot that would not leave me be.**

 **Enjoy, 0tree0**

Scotland was beautiful regardless of the weather Hermione believed, even now, the heavens open and rain drenched. It smelled wild and free, the air was a little sweeter and it felt like home. Taking a deep lungful of air she tipped her head back and tasted the rain, she felt the chill of the highland winds mustering from the hills behind her on her cheeks, and she smiled. She felt her heart soar and a half-wry smile transformed into a grin. Eyes closed and arms spread wide she felt a bubble of laughter escape her and she knew then that despite the war, despite the ruined castle behind her, ruined now to Muggle and Wizarding eyes alike, despite what they had lost, it would be alright again, some day, somehow.

After a few moments she registered the presence of someone behind her and she sighed inwardly, gathering herself to confront whoever it was, she opened her eyes and ran a gloved hand over her face to dispel some of the water. When she blinked at the figure heading towards her she found herself mutely astonished. With vivid white hair dancing in the wind, wild and untamed, Lucius Malfoy strode towards her, sure and confident. She felt her breath catch and was assaulted with a rush of emotions and thoughts. Why was he here? How dare he be here? Why did he look so strong and so composed? Did he have no shame.

His focus shifted from an obscure point on the horizon and he appeared to register her presence as if for the first time, though he surely must have seen there was someone ahead of him. He paused, now only about six feet from her and blinked slowly. He had changed Hermione noted, his face bore a few more lines, his posture looked a little less arrogant and he had gained a scar just to the left of his chin, but the most striking difference was in his eyes, they looked younger than she remembered, but also infinitely weary. There was no slight in them, no derogation, just frank appraisal.

It made sense of course, everyone was a little different these days, but somehow she had forgotten about him, had not wondered where he was, or what he was doing. She recalled mentioning his name in the detailed report she had compiled on the events leading up to and including their hunt for the Horcruxes, requested by the ministry, but nothing else. Frankly she had been too absorbed in Harry, and Ron, the Weasleys and her family, and their extended friends to give much of a damn about anything else. It reminded her of how out of touch she was however, and not knowing was not something she had ever been much good at. That had been part of the reason she had agreed to come to the castle. Minerva had taken over guardianship of school, and would take the position as headmistress, provided adequate repairs could be made in time for the next year, and finally feeling she needed to be doing something to help re-build she had acquiesced to helping out where she could. Hogwarts had been, and still was in many ways, her home.

Her musings were interrupted by a rumble of thunder somewhere in the distance and the reminder that followed that she was not alone; her companion looked briefly at the source of the noise and squinted slightly.

"Mr. Malfoy."

He visibly swallowed as though he had not spoken for some time.

"Miss. Granger," he murmured his voice low and composed, clear despite the wind. "I hope that you are well."

His face twitched a little at the last and she realised that he must be remembering, as she was, the last time she had seen him, at Malfoy Manor. Initially it had taken some time for her to come to terms with that particular ordeal, but Bellatrix was dead, and with logic as her ally, she knew her memory of that night and her fear would also die a death of a kind, with time. She no longer dreamt of it, and she could read her name without a shiver, but her face and the smell of lilacs still made her nauseous. The witch had stunk of the flower, whether the elves had stored her clothes in them when she had been in Azkaban, or whether the insane Black sister had actually had a scent made from them she didn't know, but she detested the fragrance, it smelled like death.

"I am quite well thank you, I trust you are likewise adequately disposed." The phrase had left her mouth before she had thought it.

He inclined his head and she repeated the gesture, they stood in silence for a moment.

Lucius finally coughed in a polite gesture that indicated he intended to make his farewells.

"I don't know, and I don't care whether you believed in what he stood for, in Voldemort, but please tell your wife that... tell her that..." she fumbled with what to say.

"She is dead." He was matter-of-fact but his eyes flickered briefly.

Hermione opened and closed her mouth in shock. How had she missed that? How could she have not known; she felt a genuine pang of sadness. She had not liked Narcissa Malfoy, and she would not pretend otherwise, even now, but she had understood. She had understood the power of a mother's love, dedication to family and the desire to protect those you loved. Had their places been exchanged could she have acted differently?

"When?"

"Fourty seven days ago." He responded, his precision and cool tone belying the clear fact that he had been counting.

Lucius Malfoy turned his body slightly, the old hauteur reasserting itself, he lifted his chin proudly and defiantly and his eyes flashed dark and bold. She might have been fooled a year ago, but she saw the grief there, like knows like and she had her own burden to bear.

She had wondered throughout the war whether he had been the man everyone believed him to be. Was he a devout blood-purist, Voldemort's left-hand, the powerful and greedy Malfoy patriarch, or was he something else? Was he, like his wife, proud and arrogant, but stuck? How many men and women had been seduced by the prospect of power and status, blackmailed with threats to their family, drawn in through fear and desperation, to swell the ranks of Tom Riddle's army? Was Lucius Abraxas Malfoy one of them? She wondered the same thing now; did this man have a heart after all?

Apparently tired of the exchange he moved to walk around her and she did not stop him, when he was a few feet behind her she turned again, regarding his back, cloaked in midnight, his hair still wild. She took a breath and shouted after him.

"She was brave, I won't forget that."

She saw him pause and he half turned, she thought she saw his eyes close briefly, but she couldn't be sure. Then he was gone, apparating away from the castle, and from the empty question that hung in the air.

How brave were you?


End file.
